


Master

by BronteLover



Series: Night of the Hunter [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:09:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BronteLover/pseuds/BronteLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel saves a beautiful body slave, Dean, but has a really hard time not giving into temptation. The thing is, Dean really wants him to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Master

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own neither Supernatural nor Angel. I do not write these works for commercial gain. I write them for non-profit entertainment.
> 
> Here's another Angel and Dean story, because I really enjoy writing these two together. I hope you enjoy it.

****

****

Angel decapitates the demon with one powerful stroke and the fight is over. He’s rather bloody and bruised himself, and his coat is clinging to his lower back where he connected with a wall earlier.

He surveys the scene about him, all of the demon’s followers lying dead and mostly dismembered at his and Wesley’s feet. He’s about to tell Wesley that they should probably get going, when he hears a noise coming from a corner where a few dead followers lie in the pools of their own blood and their crimson worship robes. He frowns and makes his way towards the noise, Wesley stays behind him, providing back up.

As he grows closer, he realises that the noise is sobs. He pushes the bodies aside and starts slightly when he sees what lies beneath them. A pair of large green eyes stare up at them and something inside of Angel’s chest tightens at the vulnerability in them.

The feeling intensifies when a deep voice says, “Master?”

 

* * *

 

When they arrive at the offices, the beautiful boy who Angel has rescued has fallen asleep in the backseat of his convertible. Despite the fact that he is the same height as Angel, he is slimmer and far prettier. His large jade eyes are fringed by thick tawny lashes that rest in a long curve as he lies asleep. Angel does not wake him as he removes the boy from the car and carries him inside with Wesley trailing behind.

Cordelia is about to leave for the night when they enter the office, and she raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow at the sleeping boy in Angel’s long arms.

“Who’s Sleeping Beauty?” she quips, putting the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

“A boy we found in the Servitium Demons lair,” Wesley replies as he lays his bloody axe on Cordelia’s desk.

“Hey!” she cries. “Ixnay on the axenay!”

“My apologies,” Wesley flounders as he removes the axe. “Well I’ll be on my way. I’ve got some reading to do on the Manducare demon in case we ever run into one.”

With that he exits the offices with the bloody axe concealed under his suit jacket, leaving Cordelia to switch off the lights and go home.

 

* * *

 

Angel lays the sleeping boy on the bed and makes to get up, but a long fingered hand comes out and grips his arm with surprising strength.

“Master?” the boy says, his brow furrowed slightly.

For a moment, Angel has a completely unrelated thought about if the boy would have that same expression while being fucked. Angel banishes the thought in horror and lays his free over the one holding his arm.

“My name’s Angel,” he says quietly. “What’s yours?”

The boy stares at him for a while before he replies, “Dean. My name is Dean.”

Angel is relieved that Dean seems to be able to understand and speak English despite his decidedly unusual appearance. Angel had been immediately fascinated by the fact that the boy has quite a few body piercings and a large tattoo of a black dragon covering his otherwise smooth, pale back.

“Where am I, Master?” Dean asks, his grip becoming more like a caress.

Angel frowns, “You’re in my apartment. Underground. And I’m not your master, I’m Angel.”

“ _Angel,_ ” he says, rolling the name around in his mouth like something exotic. “You _are_ my master.”

Angel gently draws Dean’s beautifully long fingered hand off of his arm, “Why am I your master, Dean?”

Dean looks at him in utter confusion, as if Angel has just asked him why people have eyes, “Because you killed my last master, therefore I now belong to you.”

This admission warns Angel that Dean is obviously not from Earth, or if he is, he’s not from anywhere Angel’s ever visited. He would definitely remember a place full of beautiful young males with body piercings and art.

“Where are you from, Dean?”

“I am from another dimension. My home planet is many light years from yours.”

“I see,” Angel replies, having dealt with other dimensional beings before. “What’s the name of your home?”

“It is called Bellus,” Dean replies, his large green eyes moving over Angel’s face, as if he’s trying to memorise each line and ridge.

“How did you come to be the possession of the Servitium Demon?” Angel belatedly realises that he’s gently stroking Dean’s smooth palm.

Dean frowns once more, “I was sold to him of course. It is the custom for the son who is not heir and possesses no powers to be sold when he reaches adolescence. My brother, Castiel, was heir to all my father’s land and assets, and my younger brother possessed the sight. My father said I possessed beauty, and therefore my last Master paid a good price for me.”

Angel is stunned by how matter of fact Dean’s tone is, as if he has no qualms about having been sold into a life of indentured servitude. Angel supposes that Dean actually doesn’t because he’s obviously been raised to accept the fact that this would be his fate. The darker side of Angel wants to flip Dean onto his stomach and claim him like Dean seems to want. He resists the urge, however. He cannot give into taking advantage of someone he’s rescued, even if that boy is beautiful and seemingly willing.

“Do you know what I am, Dean?” Angel asks softly.

Dean’s gaze drops to the covers and then he looks at Angel through his eyelashes again, “Yes. I saw your true face. You are a vampire, but I think you are good, not like the others I have known.”

“You’ve known other vampires?” Angel says in surprise.

“Of course. My last master knew many of them. They gave him information that he sometimes required. He did not think very highly of them, however, and many of them were used as sacrifices during the rituals.”

Angel really hates demons, they’re so grandiose and grotesque all the time, and they have a massive opinion of themselves. He hates the fact that that disgusting thing he killed earlier ever touched something as stunning as Dean.

“Dean,” he starts, hating the question he feels compelled to ask. “What did you do for the Servitium Demon?”

Dean’s ruby lipped mouth pouts slightly as he looks at Angel, and Angel feels like hauling him against his chest and kissing him until he clings to Angel for dear life. He is instead roused from his fantasy by Dean’s honey smooth voice.

“I pleasured him in any way he wished. It was my duty to him as his pleasure slave.”

Angel wants to gag at the thought of that neckless, pruny skinned grotesque touching Dean’s silky smooth skin, which looks like alabaster dusted with rose and sprinkled with caramel freckles and chocolate brown beauty spots.

“What do you mean pleasure slave?” he asks, even though he is quite sure he knows the meaning of the term.

Dean licks his lips unconsciously and it makes Angel’s cock stir, but he shoves his arousal down again in favour of listening to Dean’s reply.

“I was trained to be a pleasure slave from my late childhood. I was considered one of the best by my trainer, and that is why I was bought for so much.”

“How old are you, Dean?”

“In my homeland we do not measure age in the same way in which Earth dwellers do. We measure it according to the phases of the seven moons which exist in our sky. If I am to measure my age according to earth standards, then I am twenty years old.”

Angel cannot believe how young Dean is and yet the boy has seen so much and lived so much for one who has barely begun manhood. Angel had been six years older than Dean when he had become a vampire, and despite his many sexual exploits, he had been nowhere near as experienced as Dean obviously is. He feels rather sick at the realisation that he is over two hundred years older than Dean, and yet he wants nothing more than to explore that silken skinned body, make Dean cry out Angel’s name and _master, please_ over and over again.

He rubs the back of his neck and finally rises from the bed, “Well you’re safe now. I’ll leave you to sleep.”

Dean’s hand clutches his again, “Please master. Angel. I do not want to sleep alone, please do not make me sleep alone.”

Angel wavers for a moment, he does not want to take advantage of the situation, and yet Dean is looking at him with such a pleading expression.

“Alright,” he breathes as he toes off his shoes and climbs in bed with Dean.

Before he can protest, Dean snuggles back against him so that Angel has to encircle his slim waist, and the soft swell of his behind is pressed against Angel’s front. He belatedly realises that Dean is completely naked, and that only two layers of clothing separate he and Dean’s perfect buttocks. When he tries to move back slightly so that his increasing arousal isn’t quite so obvious, Dean makes a displeased noise and presses back again.

Angel doesn’t sleep at all, and is thankful that he’s a nocturnal creature so that his gaze can follow the way Dean’s rose coloured mouth parts in sleep, and the crescent shape of his slightly fluttering lashes. He admires Dean’s defined pectoral muscles and the lightly muscled expanse of his abdomen, which has random clusters of beauty spots. His small, dusky nipples are both pierced with small silver bars. The hair that leads from Dean’s navel to the blanket, which is draped low on the gorgeous cut of his hips, is blonde and silky.

Angel presses his mouth into a thin line and takes a few deep breaths before he can no longer resist the temptation and lifts the blanket up. He bites his lip so hard that he almost draws blood as he takes in Dean’s half hard cock, which is long and thick, slightly pink at the head, and nestled in strawberry blonde curls. He closes his eyes, but the sight seems to be burned into his retinas for the rest of eternity. He gently lays the blanket back down, and soundlessly gets off the bed.

He goes to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of blood before putting on a Julie London record, and resolutely trying not to think about the forbidden angel lying in his bed.

 

* * *

 

Cordelia decides that she likes Dean because he applauds her after she does her audition for a toothpaste commercial.

“I like your,” she makes a gesture towards her face and ears. “Piercings. Especially that silver cuff on your left ear.”

Dean smiles shyly and touches the ornately carved cuff, which has delicate looking vines set in the silver body, “Thank you.”

“You’re lucky,” Cordelia shrugs. “Not a lot of guys can get away with an eyebrow piercing _and_ a nose piercing. Then again, you do kind of look like a GQ model.”

“A GQ model?” Dean frowns slightly.

“It’s a good thing, don’t you worry,” she winks, and then seems to take in his appearance fully. “We have to get you new clothes, though. Angel’s make you look like a beautiful homeless person, which only really works for Kate Moss.”

She slings her bag over her shoulder as she calls, “Wesley! Tell Angel we’re going out so I can buy Dean some new clothes.”

Dean doesn’t resist when she takes him by the hand and drags him out of the office.

 

* * *

 

Dean feels rather overwhelmed by the time Cordelia has made them visit at least seven different stores, and made him try on more outfits than he can remember. She shakes her head a lot and rolls her eyes at things, which confuses Dean, because all the clothes seem to be fine to him.

They get so a store where they sell men’s underwear, and Dean feels shy when he comes out of the changing room and a man and a woman both stare at his body.

“Hey!” Cordelia clucks. “Beat it Mr Pervster and his girlfriend!”

The couple immediately blush and walk out of the store.

“Agh,” Cordelia says, rolling her eyes again. “Some people are _so_ not subtle. I like those. Now try these ones.”

Dean smiles at her and takes the tight grey boxers she gives him.

“Cor-Cordelia?” he says from behind the changing room door. “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why doesn’t Angel want me?” he asks softly. “Do I displease him somehow?”

Cordelia lets out a snort, “Trust me, Dean, you do everything _but_ displease him. That’s the problem.”

Dean frowns, “I don’t understand.”

Cordelia nods when he comes out of the changing room again, and gestures for him to change back into his clothes before she answers, “Angel is _kiiind_ of a masochist. I mean, if I could gift wrap a life size crucifix and give it to him for his birthday, he’s probably happily nail himself to it.”

“But why? He seems so kind and sweet.”

“He wasn’t always like that. For a long time he was pretty bad news.”

Dean comes out of the changing room after he’s dressed, and hands the underwear to Cordelia. He’s quiet while she pays for everything, but can’t keep quiet when they’re out of the store.

“What did he do?” he asks meekly.

Cordelia sighs, “I think you should talk to him about this, Dean. It’s not really my story to tell, you know?”

Dean nods, and resolves to ask Angel everything.

 

* * *

 

When Angel wakes up, he can hear the shower running, and he feels vaguely confused for a moment until he remembers that he has a beautiful body slave in his apartment. He lies in bed for a while, taking calming breaths, until he gets out of bed and pads over to the bathroom.

Too late he realises that Dean hasn’t shut the door or the shower curtain, and he’s paralysed by the sight that his pale skin all wet and shrouded in steam. Dean is standing to the side, facing the showerhead. His hair is slicked back, showing the stunning contours of his high cheekbones and strong jaw. His eyes are closed against the spray, while his pink, luscious mouth is parted. His eyelashes are long, dark spikes against his freckled skin, and his body is a burnished curve of sin.

The dragon tattoo which spans his entire back and onto the high, gorgeous curve of his right buttock, looks like black oil and blood as it glistens under the water. The muscles of his shoulders and buttocks move as he washes himself. Angel’s eyes are drawn to where Dean’s long fingered hand moves in languid, soapy circles on his half hard cock and wet pubic hair.

Angel thinks he’s going to crush the doorframe with how hard he’s gripping it, as he imagines taking that beautiful cock in his mouth and tonguing the slit. He so badly wants to plunge his member into Dean in that moment that it’s like a tangible madness, akin to those days when he stalked victims in alleyways for their blood. He can smell Dean’s sweet scent, and rich spice of his blood, and faint vanilla of the soap.

Angel’s still standing there, white knuckled grip on the doorframe, when Dean realises he’s there. His eyes are wide and so green, with flecks of gold and light brown that enhance the black of his pupils, which are expanding in what Angel can only guess is arousal. He can smell it thrumming through Dean’s blood, and making his heart pound in his chest.

“Angel,” Dean whispers. “ _Master._ ”

Angel closes his eyes against the need to close the distance between them and take Dean, slippery, glistening and _wanting,_ against the shower wall. Angel turns away, though, and closes the door behind him before he goes into the kitchen to get a fresh cup of blood.  

 

* * *

 

Dean stares at the now closed door for a while before he rinses the soap off his body, while trying to banish thoughts of Angel’s cool, broad chest pressed against his back, and those long, alabaster fingers gripping his pulsing sex. He bites his lip against a moan when he begins to stroke himself, imagining Angel thrusting into him, telling him how beautifully tight he is.

Dean can almost feel one of those deliciously powerful hands gripping his throat, the slim fingers digging into the vulnerable skin. His orgasm explodes out of him at the thought of Angel sinking those sharp teeth into his jugular while he fucks Dean raw.

He stands there panting for a while as he watches his release get washed down the drain. He washes his face, always mindful of his piercings, and his body again before turning off the shower. He had figured out how to use the shower after much trial and error, but he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to dry himself now. His previous master had liked to take Dean when his skin was wet and freshly washed. He swallows back bile at the memory of the cruelty of those encounters.

He opens the door and peers out towards the kitchen. It sounds like Angel is cooking something, and he frowns, because from what he understands vampires don’t eat.

“Angel,” he calls tentatively.

“Yeah?”

“Wh-what must I use to dry myself?”

Silence meets his question, and then he hears a sigh, which makes him bite his lip. Angel is obviously displeased with him again, and he feels the weight of disappointment with himself settle on his shoulders.

“There’s towels in the bathroom,” Angel finally replies, as he walks towards Dean. “They’re white and hanging on a rail against the wall.”

He can see that Angel is averting his gaze, and he feels confusion. Obviously Angel does not favour his body, and Dean feels upset over this fact.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“Dean?”

“Yes?”

“I’m making you some…um…supper.”

Dean smiles hesitantly and nods before he retreating back into the bathroom. He realises that the white cloth like objects hanging on the metal bar next to the shower are towels, and tentatively uses one to dry himself.

Obviously Angel does not favour those of the same sex. He has heard that this a common occurrence on earth, and that while there are many who engage in same sex relationships, many are attracted to the opposite sex. His previous master had explained that this was because humans felt the need to procreate, something which the demon seemed highly disgusted by.

Another more unsettling thought blooms inside his mind as he dresses in the _pyjamas_ that Cordelia bought him that day. What if Angel likes others of his sex, but he just doesn’t like _Dean_ in particular. What if he finds Dean to be unsatisfactory or lesser than what he is accustomed? Dean doesn’t understand this, however. He has always been complemented on his beauty, and as he told Angel, Dean’s father sold him to be a body slave because of this very opinion.

Dean feels absolutely wretched and wipes furiously at his eyes. He will not cry in front of his new master--- _Angel---_ because that is improper. It is not his place as a body slave, whether Angel desires him or not, to show any unbecoming emotions. Taking a deep breath, he opens the bathroom door and follows the delicious smell of food to the kitchen.

Angel is standing by the stove when Dean enters, making sure that the chorizo and shrimps are sizzling, and the linguine is properly seasoned as it bubbles in the ancient pasta pot. Despite the fact Angel can’t eat, he’s always had an appreciation for good food.

“Angel?” comes the hesitant greeting from behind him.

He bites his lip before he turns around to face Dean. He’s glad that vampires can’t have accelerated breathing, because Dean’s standing in the doorway dressed in a dark grey cotton sleep t-shirt and matching flannel pants, which are damp in places and stick to his skin. Angel feels like slamming his fists against the kitchen table, because how can someone _possibly_ look like a debauched angel in _pyjamas?_

Dean’s cheeks are slightly flushed from the heat of the shower, and his short blonde hair sticks up in gold tipped spikes. His eyes catch the overhead light and look like some sort of celestial body of greens, gold, light browns and black. His mouth is like a lush, ripe strawberry waiting to be devoured. Angel grips the kitchen counter so hard that it creeks and Dean frowns slightly.

Tearing himself away from the unintentionally sinful display that Dean makes, he drains the pasta and dishes up a portion for Dean, before pouring the sauce and the chorizo and shrimp over the linguine.

He hands the food to Dean as he motions for the boy to sit at the kitchen table.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Angel asks as he walks towards the fridge. “Cordy bought some soda and milk seen as you don’t exactly drink blood.”

Dean stares at him blankly for a moment before replying, “I’ll have whatever you think is best.”

Angel wants to argue, tell Dean that he should decide for himself, but he just takes a cherry flavoured cool drink from the fridge and opens it for Dean before placing it by his plate. Dean stares at the can for a moment before he puts it to his lips and drinks. Angel tries not to lecherously watch the way Dean’s long, pale throat looks as he drinks, or how his biteable lips look against the can.

“This food is very good,” Dean whispers, not looking at Angel. “I’ve never tasted anything like it. What is made of?”

Angel leans forward and lists the ingredients while he points to them on Dean’s plate. When he’s finished, he notices that Dean’s been staring at his mouth. He blushes and looks away when he realises Angel is looking at him.

“Dean,” he says gently. “Is something bothering you?”

Dean looks pained for a moment, and then replies in a rush, “I know I displease you. Cordelia said that I should ask you about your past, because this might explain why you don’t want me. But she said that you do want me, and this confuses me because I don’t think that you do---”

“Dean,” Angel interrupts soothingly. “It’s _complicated._ ”

“Please explain it to me,” Dean says a little desperately. “I need to understand what I’m doing wrong. I want to be a good body slave to you.”

Angel sighs, “You’re not doing anything wrong, and I don’t want you to be my body slave.”

The pain that settles over Dean’s beautiful face is acute and crushing, and prompts Angel to cup that stunning jaw in his hands, and wipe away the tears that fall from Dean’s large, green eyes with his thumbs.

“It’s not because I don’t want you. I _do_ want you. You’re so beautiful, Dean. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you, and I’ve been alive for a long time. I’ve been in… _love…_ once in my life, with a vampire slayer named Buffy, but I couldn’t be with her because of who I was before.”

Dean lays his hand over Angel’s, and he realises that their hands are the same size, but Dean’s skin is alive and warm, “Tell me everything, Angel. _Please._ ”

Angel clasps Dean’s hands in his own and strokes the soft skin with his thumbs as he talks, “When I was a young man in Ireland, I lived as I pleased. I slept around and I drank. I associated with people who I shouldn’t have, and while my father told me as much in his own Calvinistic way, I rebelled and left his house to continue living as I liked. It was a terrible mistake, and I was turned by a beautiful vampire called Darla. I did _unspeakable_ things with her, including…killing…my own family.”

Dean gasps softly at this, but doesn’t pull his hands away or look at Angel with disgust.

“Darla brought me a young gypsy girl one night, when we had been together for many years, and I killed her. It was the worst thing I could have done, and the gypsies punished me for it by giving me a soul. Darla rejected me in disgust and I was completely lost for a long time, before I realised that it was my purpose to help people, to try and amend for what I had done.”

“Why couldn’t you stay with the vampire slayer---Buffy?” Dean asks softly. “Didn’t---didn’t she love you, too?”

“She did and that was the problem. Whenever I achieve perfect happiness, I become who I was before, Angelus, a murderous lunatic whose hell bent on killing everyone I care about.”

He expects to see fear on Dean’s face, but there is only sadness, as if it is Dean who has to bear such a terrible cross.

“I don’t think that I could ever give you perfect happiness,” he sighs. “But I could make you content, and maybe dull the ache of not being someone who you really love.”

Angel stares at him for a moment before he shakes his head emphatically, “ _No,_ Dean. You deserve far better than that.”

Dean feels a spike of anger at Angel’s reply, “That doesn’t come into it. Don’t you see? I _want_ to be with you. My previous master, he was cruel and he was only obsessed with preserving my beauty so I could sit at his feet while he tortured and sacrificed and _slaughtered._ But you, you make food for me even though you don’t eat, and you try and treat me with tenderness even though no one’s shown you any.”

Angel blinks owlishly in surprise as Dean gets up from his seat and straddles Angel’s lap, as he presses his warm lips to Angel’s ear, “I want you to take me to bed and _fuck_ me. I’ve been thinking about you being inside of me from the moment I saw you. When I was in the shower earlier, I imagined you coming inside of me while you bit me.”

Angel leans back and grips Dean’s hips, feeling the deliciously sharp bone beneath the silky skin, “I won’t fuck you.”

Dean opens his mouth to protest, but Angel interrupts, “I’ll make love to you, because that’s what you deserve, Dean, for someone to treat with you reverence.”

Dean leans forward and Angel meets him half way. His lips are cool and firm against Dean’s warm, plush mouth which he teases open and explores with unhurried swipes of his tongue. He finds the parts of Dean’s mouth that make the younger man clutch at his shoulders and moan. He lets Dean feel the graze of his fangs against his lower lip as Dean rolls his hips against Angel, so that his thick cock is pressed against Dean’s firm buttocks.

Dean pulls Angel’s shirt over his head as Angel lifts him from the chair and carries him to the bed. His own top soon follows suit as Angel arches over him and begins to kiss and nip at the trembling flesh of his stomach. His cool tongue laps and teases at the piercing, which resembles a curling silver vine, in Dean’s naval, before sucking it into his mouth and making Dean arch up to meet him.

He gives Dean’s nipple piercings the same treatment until the nubs are pink and hard, and Dean is carding his hands through Angel’s thick hair and begging him not to stop. Angel pulls away and gazes at Dean, taking in the glorious picture he makes with his tousled hair and glazed eyes. His lips are a deep, glistening pink from Dean biting them as Angel drives him to distraction.

“Angel,” he whispers fracturedly. “I---it’s never been like this.”

“It’ll always be like this from now on,” Angel replies, softly stroking Dean’s side.

“Please, _please._ I want you inside of me.”

“Be patient, baby,” Angel whispers, kissing Dean’s collarbone. “I want to make you come before I’m inside of you, so I can make you come again.”

Dean stares at him in wonder. His previous master had little regard for Dean’s pleasure, often only letting him achieve it in order to feel Dean’s body constricting.

He feels confusion when Angel removes both of their pants and underwear, but begins to move down his body towards his erect cock. It’s a dark pink and glistening with fluid at the tip, and Dean almost levitates off the bed as Angel licks it. He lets out a breathy moan when Angel’s mouth, wet and full, slides over the heated flesh, and he feels his cockhead nudge the back of Angel’s throat. The constrictive wetness is maddening and Dean can feel his orgasm beginning to uncoil from what seems like the tips of his toes.

“ _Angel, oh **god** ,”_ he gasps as Angel swallows around him and then begins to move up and down.

His long, cool tongue curls around fevered flesh, dipping into the slit which is constantly leaking. Dean feels the slight scratch of Angel’s fangs and his toes curl in the duvet at the thought of Angel biting his cock. That mental image and Angel’s hand massaging his testicles makes his release shatter him into a thousand pieces, so that he’s sobbing Angel’s name and arching so that only his feet and shoulders and head touch the bed.

Angel swallows Dean’s hot, slightly bitter release down and licks the now flaccid cock clean until Dean pushes at his head. He lays a kiss to the velvet head before drawing back and kissing Dean’s sternum.

“Angel,” Dean murmurs. “I still want you in me.”

Angel smirks as he strokes Dean’s smooth stomach, and admires the delicate looking jewellery in his navel.

“Turn over for me,” he replies softly. “I want to see that beautiful tattoo of yours.”

Dean shivers in delight as he turns over and presses his cheek to the soft pillow beneath him. He spreads his legs as Angel moves between them and traces the lines of his tattoo with gentle fingers. He closes his eyes as he takes in the sensation of Angel’s tender caress and the coolness of his long fingers.

Angel marvels at the beauty of Dean’s tattoo, which covers his entire back. The head of the dragon is on his left shoulder, and is completely black, except for the eyes, which are crimson. The proud head leads into the curving body, which is a shining coil of black that leads into the equally rich onyx that flows over Dean’s high, firm buttock. The tip of the tale is also crimson, like blood against Dean’s velvet like skin. The dragon’s wings are majestic in their intricate lines of black and red, and seem to move slightly as the muscles in Dean’s back tense and relax.

“This is stunning, Dean,” Angel breaths, before he dips his head and traces the curving lines and flowing colour with his tongue and teeth.

Dean swallows against the pleasure that blooms inside of him at the feel of Angel’s mouth, “I-it’s the---the symbol of my house. We are of---of the---the dragon.”

His fingers grip the pillow and headboard tighter as Angel’s tongue and teeth move from his tattoo to the vulnerable flesh where his buttocks meet. Angel gently bites the sensitive flesh and Dean moans while rolling his hips against the duvet. A thrill races up his arched spine as Angel parts his buttocks and languidly licks a trail from his lower back to his perineum.

Angel draws back in fascination and surprise when he feels warm metal at the smooth flesh between Dean’s entrance and testicles. A small silver ring is embedded in Dean’s perineum and Angel marvels at this fact as he reaches forward and tentatively turns the ring. Dean cries out at the feeling of having the ring moved and pushes back against Angel’s questing touch.

“ _Dean,”_ he whispers in astonishment, before drawing the ring into his mouth and sucking.

Dean digs his toes into Angel’s back and cries out as Angel’s long finger slips inside of his opening. It feels as if his entire groin is on fire with pleasure, which pulses when Angel brushes over his prostate. His grip on the headboard and pillow becomes so tight that his knuckles are white.

“ _Angel, **Angel**_ ,” he sobs, as a second finger joins the first and starts pistoning in and out of him. “I can’t, I _can’t._ ”

Angel reaches beneath him and tugs on his left nipple piercing as he wiggles his tongue through the ring of his guiche piercing, and presses his fingers against Dean’s pleasure centre. His eyes fly open as he lets out a desperate choking noise and his body bows against the duvet. His cock pulses once before he’s spilling his release beneath him.    

Angel kisses his piercing once more before drawing back and kissing his shoulder blade.  

“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispers, as he strokes Dean’s hair. “I’ll be inside of you soon. You’re just so beautiful when you come. I couldn’t help myself.”

Dean turns his head and smiles at Angel as he leans forward and claims his mouth in a languid, exploratory kiss, while still fingering him open. Dean shivers with anticipation as he hears the bottle of lubricant opening again, and the intimate noise of Angel slicking up his cock.

“Turn over for me,” Angel says in a slightly strained voice.

Dean gasps when he sees Angel’s cock, which is beautifully long and thick, the head a purple mushroom shape and glossy in the low lighting. Angel’s eyes look completely black now, and they flash with something predatory as his vampire lover lifts his legs and thrusts into him. Dean can’t help the choked sob that escapes him at the feeling of Angel’s wonderful cock spearing his insides.

He grips the headboard with both hands as Angel’s thrusts push him up the bed. He can feel the hard flesh inside of him throbbing, as it burns cold along his tender walls and fills him to bursting. The breathy moans that escape his lips mingle with Angel’s soft sounds of exertion, obviously a habit from his human days. He takes in the play of emotions across Angel’s stunning face, and loves the way his otherwise smooth brow creases in concentration as he moves so fluidly above Dean.

Dean lets out a startled sound as Angel rolls them over so that he’s now riding the vampire’s cock. Pleasure cascades down his spine and bursts behind his wide green eyes as his prostrate is found with each powerful roll of Angel’s hips.  He digs his nails into Angel’s porcelain skin, knowing that the bloody crescents will heal momentarily, and rides him hard and fast.

Angel grips Dean’s fragile hips tighter, feeling the exquisite bone shifting beneath the satinlike skin. Dean is like a magnificently decadent Siren above him with his dishevelled golden hair and glowing green eyes. His lips are swollen and dark pink from Angel’s kisses, and his straight, white teeth press into the plump flesh of his lip. His entire body seems to undulate like a beautiful wave as he moves up and down on Angel’s cock, which stretches his rim so that it’s unfurling for him like a dark red rose.

“Master,” Dean moans. “ _Angel._ ”

Angel feels his orgasm begin from the base of his spine and then unravel through his muscles until it’s burning in his stomach and rushing through his cock. His semen coats Dean’s insides like a cool shock, and makes the younger man ride him even harder until his body stiffens and he comes for a third time.

He continues to straddle Angel for a few more moments, his blunt nails digging into Angel’s hard chest, and his eyes shut while his mouth hangs open in order to gulp in lungfuls of air.

“That,” Dean says as his eyes slowly open. “Was incredible.”

Angel smirks slightly and caresses his young lover’s back as he leans down and gently kisses Angel, moaning as their tongue intertwine and Angel lifts him off of his now soft cock.

“I think you and I should have a bath,” Angel says as he lifts Dean up and carries him to the bathroom.

He gently sets Dean down in the tub before he starts running the water. Dean moves forward so that Angel can sit behind him. He lays his head against his vampire lover’s shoulder and sighs in contentment as the water fills the bath.

“How come you have so many piercings, baby?” Angel asks, slowly cupping water and running it down Dean’s chest and stomach.

“It’s tradition on my planet to pierce those who are to become body slaves. My previous master gave me the ear cuff and naval piercing which I wear,” Dean replies softly, drawing idle patterns on Angel’s smooth thigh.

“At least he gave you something beautiful,” Angel concedes quietly. “I’d like to buy you one for your nose.”

“Really?” Dean smiles.

“Of course,” Angel murmurs as he kisses Dean’s neck. “You’re mine now, after all.”

Dean’s smile widens, “And you’re mine.”

“Exactly,” Angel replies against the shell of his ear.         


End file.
